Dynamic Duo
by Thomas Tom Tom
Summary: How do people see the relationship between the Dovahkiin and her loyal Housecarl, Lydia? Series of friendshippy oneshots. Kind of amusing. Lydia/FemDovahkiin if you squint for long enough and find super-friendly drunk snuggles slash.
1. Housecarl

**A/N: Yeah, so, you all want something worthwhile, like a TFP or a TT or even a YJ fic...**

**SO I WROTE SOME SKYRIM THINGS! YAY TOM DOING FANSERVICE! AW YEAH.**

**Thusly, there was this _thing. _I have been playing Skyrim a LOT lately, (yeah, I play as a girl, so sue me), and you get to thinking, what's Lydia (the best Housecarl in all of creation) thinking about all of this? How does she view the Dovahkiin as a person? How do people view the Dragonborn and Lydia together? Why can slim, black haired young women use _INTIMIDATE _on seven-foot-tall Orcs and win? (Okay, that last one I already know is completely possible.)**

**And then this happened. Everywhere. A lot. There's going to be more of this.**

**Anya the Phantom is my personal Dovahkiin. That is all that I own here. Have fun.**

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**Housecarl**

Lydia considers herself very lucky that she's assigned to the Thane of Whiterun.

"Thane" seems like an empty word for this woman, who showed up out of nowhere, killed a dragon, and then dragged Lydia off on literally the biggest adventure of her life. This woman's crawled through dungeons with her, pointed out traps for her, saved her from reanimated corpses, ridden on dragons with her, quite literally taken her to Sovngarde and back, saved the world, tricked her into accidentally flirting with Ysgramor, and many other millions of things besides.

Lydia didn't really see much in this young woman wearing a forest green armoured coat and a brown leather vest over that with simple canvas trousers and black boots with about an inch of heel, who introduced herself as "just Anya" but was referred to in hushed tones as "the Phantom" by everyone else, but even a few hours in her company was incredibly enlightening. Anya is a Nord, like her; her hair is black and cut short and braided close to her head to prevent anyone grabbing it in a fight, like her; but while Lydia has just her physical presence and her sword; Anya has some kind of imperceptible aura of pure danger and malevolence surrounding her – maybe it's the too-perfect features, or the slightly glowing amber eyes and slightly reptilian pupils (Lydia knows Anya isn't a vampire, so that's ruled out, at least); something about her is dangerous and different. This aura is a hundred times stronger when Anya's just absorbed a dragon's power, so Lydia assumes it's a side effect of the Dragon Blood running through her Thane's veins. Anya fights like no-one she's ever seen – armed with a beautiful one-of-a-kind diamond dagger, she vanishes at random and then suddenly the attacker seems to be having his throat cut by the air – and isn't limited by weapons at all; when a team of thugs ambushed them at a bar, Anya broke one's neck with a word and froze the other two solid with another.

They only really started being "friends" after Lydia was being bothered by that hopeless bard Mikael, and Anya just walked up and punched the poor fool out. Then, another layer of the woman was somehow peeled back – she changed from the terrifying professional assassin and freelance mercenary to a funny, dependable friend with a silver tongue and far too much skill in Illusion magic.

Lydia still doesn't know how she does the thing where her head goes invisible. All she knows is it utterly terrifies poor Jon Battle-Born, and it's hilarious.

Even "friend" isn't really enough to describe the relationship between Housecarl and Thane. Lydia can name everyone she's really "close" to on one hand, and Anya is probably first on that list. Hel, they _live _together. Lydia has gone from laughing about the dreadful advances of men in Whiterun with Anya to blocking a swing from a battleaxe while Anya shouts the wielder off a cliff.

She's gotten used to the slight warmth when they're sitting back-to-back in a tent that's far too small for them both, especially _in a damn blizzard_, but Anya won't buy a new one because she's far too stingy; despite running out of space in all her weapon lockers and armour chests and literally having sparkling gold and silver weapons littered all over the floor of their house. She's gotten used to being accosted in the street by orphans telling them both _"You're the best!"_ and asking "_Can you be my mother?_", which is both flattering and tragic, because Lydia knows as well as Anya does that having basically two mothers is completely implausible, and that there's really no time for children when you're a full-time mercenary assassin thief dragonslayer vampire-hunter – and it's not like Anya can call in some kind of Daedric _butler_ just to look after children. Lydia is used to somehow ending up backed into a corner by Thalmor and then there's just that smirk on Anya's face before Odahviing and Durnehviir swoop down and snap up six of the elves, leaving the others to scream _"She's got dragons!", "By the Eight!", "What is this trickery?!"_ before they die in either Anya's dragon-fire-breath or at Lydia's blade. She's used to accidentally getting into a street brawl with fifteen of the Solitude Guard and seven Penitus Oculatus, _winning, _and being sent to Jarl Elisif where Anya just tips the Steward a wink as they're both let out scot-free. Lydia's stood and watched while Anya does her weird alchemy thing – which really only consists of eating whatever it is she's testing and working out whatever it does to her. Lydia especially hates Sabre Cat teeth, which, apparently, when ground up and eaten, make Anya very hyperactive and giggly, so much so that she has to lean on Lydia's shoulder and laugh breathlessly. Lydia's watched admiringly while Anya is pestered by children who ask "_You can do magic, right? Do magic for us!" _and then Anya sighs and makes blue and gold sparkles dance around herself or gives children a temporary confidence boost or a calming spell while secretly smiling all the time.

So they're not really just a Thane and a Housecarl, or even just good friends. They're something more than that; at each other's backs all the time, no matter what, through everything. It's a strange relationship, but Lydia'd be lying if she said she didn't enjoy it.

Though Lydia really does wish Anya'd stop managing to pull off stunningly elaborate assassinations and jewel heists without the guards even knowing till the week after; but somehow getting arrested every time she trips and accidentally stabs a chicken.


	2. Vampire

**A/N: OKAY I DID ANOTHER THING - sorry, hang on**

***pauses to take bite of flame-grilled steak flavoured crisps***

**ahem - so I did another little oneshot, and this time, I'm pretty sure it's edging into implied femslash. IT WAS AN ACCIDENT GODAMMIT**

**Oh well. Obviously this is the internet and everyone is super tolerative of lax gender roles/sexualities. Duh.**

**Now! Onto the story, in which I'm pretty sure Serana just noses around and draws the wrong conclusion. "Daedric butler" joke is my favourite and will probably be a staple of the series.**

**I do like Serana, but Lydia sassing the Dragonborn at all times amuses me far more than it should. Which is why this happened!**

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**Vampire**

Serana prides herself on being one of the Dragonborn's few close friends. The adventures the vampire's been on with the so-called Phantom have been amazing – full of new places, new people, new culture – and really did teach her a lot about her friend. Anya (that's a name that Serana would have loved to have – much simpler and, in her opinion, prettier than names from her time) is a very complex woman, and it's been Serana's honour to find out about her.

Even so, she still watches Anya when she visits Fort Dawnguard with that other black-haired woman – Lydia – and is quite amazed at their interactions, and indeed their relationship. Anya is the talker, serious and intimidating with her glowing dragon eyes (that's all Serana can describe them as) and aura of power and grace; while Lydia hangs back, her longsword easily visible and her steel armour tempered to perfection, stance confident and open, prepared to jump into combat at any second. If Isran even makes a move towards his crossbow, Lydia's hand is instantly on her sword's hilt – she makes a _very _effective deterrent.

Not that Anya can't fight. Anya is a _goddess _on the battlefield; Serana, master of at least three one-handed fighting styles, can't even keep up with the flashing dagger and the random _bamf_s of invisibility which sets Anya apart from the rest. Lydia somehow can fight in perfect harmony with her Thane; drawing the enemies' attention while Anya sets about them with her dagger and her invisibility; and when it comes to a straight-up fight, Serana's watched Lydia roll under blasts of magic, throw her shield like some kind of giant disc to break skulls, spines and legs, and – once – bend down and let herself be used as a stepping stone for Anya to jump off and drop onto flabbergasted enemies. And don't even get Serana started on those damn _dragons_.

If these are the "_professional" _Anya & Lydia, then the "_off-duty"_ Anya & Lydia are even more amazing to watch. When Serana was adventuring with Anya, whenever she was given anything or asked to carry something, she made a smart comment and picked through her bag for ten minutes to find someplace to store it. Lydia, when handed something by Anya, instantly has a place for it – be it a potion, a spellbook, a new piece of armour, or even, occasionally, the severed head of a witch – and accepts the object with a sarcastic "_I am sworn to carry your burdens." _

They both laugh every time Lydia says this in her practised "Housecarl" monotone, or when Lydia makes fun of the other Housecarls' (like, for example, Jordis the Sword-Maiden) silly overly-happy voices. It's a strangely _domestic _scene, Serana thinks – Anya will sometimes take an object and decide she needs it for some reason, and Lydia just sighs and rolls her eyes – and there are some moments which are just hilariously cutesy (Serana hates to admit it, but there are), such as Anya accidentally grabbing Lydia's much bigger snow cloak and being dwarfed by the big furry pelt (Anya has also worn this snow cloak as a dress at least three times after bathing, and Lydia never comments, which gets Serana curious).

There's also a lot that goes on behind closed doors – Serana has seen their shared tent for herself, and it's far too small to fit two women comfortably unless they were literally using each other as a cover; Serana's watched Lydia death-staring male adventurers on the road while Anya talks to them and she's not looking (and sometimes when she is); Anya has a Forsworn disguise in her pack for Divines know what reason; they both have been known to beat up each other's suitors; and that's about as far as Serana went.

In fact, Serana has gone out with the duo a few times. They're literally the most exciting drunks ever – Anya has a horrible story about accidentally marrying a Hagraven and finding a staff which summons Daedric butlers, and Lydia apparently once broke into the Temple of Dibella and was thrown out for "fondling the statuary", neither of which Serana even wants to think about. Most of these "girls' nights out" (a term coined by Anya) end very badly, with at least three dead bandits and maybe an unconscious priest on the three's hands; while Lydia and Anya lean on each other and giggle like children for the rest of the night and Serana, who's not affected by alcohol as much due to her vampirism, has to lead them to the closest inn without causing an diplomatic incident, or letting them violate the sanctity of Mara's temple _again _through means she'd rather not think about.

But, at least, it gives her some time to think about the strange relationship between the Dovahkiin and her Housecarl – something so beautifully harmonised in combat and stunningly efficient in survival situations, which is also the most relaxed and easy partnership Serana's ever seen. No, they aren't just master and servant, nor are they shield-sisters; it's a more perfect union than that, Serana decides.

Plus, it's hilarious and adorable for the immortal vampire-turned-hunter to dump their comatose, drunk bodies in whatever bed that's available and just watching them slowly cuddle together; as if they're trapped in a blizzard huddled in a far-too-small tent, for example.

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**Also in the works: a barbeque**


End file.
